


Party Crasher

by chinesebakery



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, And his big head, F/M, Fluff, Mentions of Milton, Party, Pining, Secret Crush, Shyness, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 13:45:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7510663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinesebakery/pseuds/chinesebakery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma has just been dumped by Milton when she meets shy frat boy Leo Fitz, hiding away from a party at his own house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Party Crasher

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: I’ve never met you before but I went to a huge party at your house with my significant other - who then proceeded to dump me.
> 
> Much thanks to jsimmonss for beta-reading.

The music was blasting through the walls, every window vibrating along with the bass lines from the horrible, testosterone-heavy post rock they'd been playing all evening.

Jemma wasn't ready to go yet. She was still reeling from shock and humiliation –but not heartbreak, thankfully– and needed some time and space to regroup. She made her way to the surprisingly well-groomed mini-garden at the back of the house, intending to skulk there for a time, to gather her thoughts while she finished her beer before she called a taxi home.

Much to her dismay, someone else had had the same idea. One of the wrought iron chairs was occupied by a wiry boy whose face wasn't familiar.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, annoyance dripping from her voice.

"I _live_ here," he replied, his tone matching hers. He looked up from the notebook he was scribbling on to shoot her with a glare, but when he caught her eye, he instantly relented, his face softening.

"Oh," she said, deflating, and dropped into the chair opposite him by the round garden table.

"Oh? What is that supposed to mean?" He was looking at her again, this time with curious, piercing eyes. They were quite strikingly blue, his eyes.

Jemma held his gaze for a few moments. "Nothing, you don't look the frat boy type, is all." Not all frat boys looked the same, of course, but every last one of them she'd met on campus had shared a certain cocky attitude when addressing her. Perhaps he hadn't mastered that yet.

He snickered. "Thanks. I think."

"Okay, let's have a do over," she suggested, a small smile on her lips. "Hi. I'm–"

"–Jemma Simmons. Milton's girlfriend." He abruptly looked away. "I know."

"Milton's _ex_ -girlfriend," she corrected with a grimace. "As of right now."

"Oh." He studied her for a moment, his face unreadable, until his eyes widened all of a sudden. "Did you dump him at his own birthday party?"

"No. As it turns out, _he_ dumped _me_."

"He d– what a bloody git!"

Jemma couldn't help but laugh at his expression of outrage. It was sweet, really. He looked more upset about it than she was.

"Thanks," she said with a grateful nod. "For your… British solidarity?"

"Don't mention it." He shook his head, biting a smile. "I'm Fitz, by the way."

He held his hand to her and she gingerly shook it, mirroring his bashful smile.

"Are you… okay?" he asked before he let go of her hand, and the moment he did, she missed the warmth of his palm. "About the Milton thing, I mean."

"Yes," she admitted with a shrug. "I don't think Milton and I were meant to last, anyway." It was almost a relief, in fact. She'd been thinking about ending things with him for a few weeks now. She only wished it had happened differently –and in a more private setting.

Fitz started chuckling and within moments, he was guffawing uncontrollably with his head thrown back. He looked different when he laughed, juvenile and carefree. It was so infectious, Jemma found herself joining in without even knowing why.

"What's so funny?" she asked between hiccups, and he covered his face with his long, slender hands as he tried to recover.

"Nothing," he swore unconvincingly. "It's just– I can imagine that enormous head of his must come in handy in some situation. If you're out of sun screen, for instance. Or hiding from normal-headed assassins."

"It's not _that_ big," Jemma felt obligated to correct. "It's merely... oddly shaped."

"That's very nice of you, defending your Sontaran ex-boyfriend, but I think you dodged a bullet, here," he stated, tilting his head, and Jemma was overcome with the ridiculous urge to kiss that smirk away.

She cleared her throat and sat straighter in her chair, the moment slipping away. He must have sensed it too. When she turned to him again, he wasn't smiling anymore.

"Why are you hiding here, anyway? You're missing the party."

"I'm not really the party type," Fitz shrugged. His eyes fixated on his feet, his brow furrowing. "I can go, though. If you want to be alone."

"No, don't go," she said too fast. The idea of sulking here alone, over Milton, of all people, while Fitz did the same somewhere else, depriving her of his wonderful childish laughter, now seemed quite abhorrent. "It's fine. I could do with some company."

She offered him her beer bottle and he grabbed it wordlessly to take a large gulp, his absurdly blue eyes shining in the soft garden light.

***

Jemma Simmons was laughing. Better yet, Jemma Simmons was laughing at all of his jokes, her amber doe eyes gleaming with mirth, grabbing his hand to anchor herself ever so often –thankfully unaware of the thrill that simple gesture sent coursing through him every time.

He would never mock Milton's moon-sized head again. Milton was _brilliant_. Milton was to be celebrated daily for bringing Jemma Simmons into his life.

"Oh, come on," he chuckled, staring at the blinding grin splitting her face, "let the one who never fell asleep in Pr. Vaughn's class cast the first stone."

" _I_ never fell asleep in Pr. Vaughn's class," she said primly, her amused expression betraying her tone.

"I wouldn't brag about that, if I were you," he countered slanting his eyes. "It's quite suspicious. Are you actually a robot sent from the future to save us all from a tragic fate?"

"Fitz," she said suddenly, the sobering tone of her voice sending all his senses into high alert. "How come we've never met before? I've been around the house quite a few times these past months, but I can't remember ever seeing you there."

Fitz huffed a quiet sigh. How was he to explain without giving himself away? She might not have seen him, but _he_ 'd seen _her_. He'd been acutely, painfully aware of her presence the entire time.

He'd noticed her on the very first day of term, when her hand kept shooting up during Pr. Weaver's lecture to either ask nitpicky questions or to clarify fine points that the teacher was, in Jemma's opinion, oversimplifying. He'd been amused at first, and quite impressed by both her wit and her gall. She was sitting in the front row while he'd claimed a seat in the back, and it had taken some time for him to get a good look at her. When he had, he'd immediately renounced his plan to talk to her after class. She was pretty –gorgeous, really– and he'd always been petrified at the very thought of talking to a girl he fancied.

It was their only class together this semester, and he spent the following week building up the courage to introduce himself, but when the time came, his mouth was dry, his throat tight and his palms sweaty. It went on this way for over a month –talking himself into overcoming his shyness for the entire week, only to chicken out at the last minute– until bloody Milton had come along and asked her out, right in front of him.

"I'm really stealthy," he stated, puffing his chest. "Like a Scottish ninja."

"Right, you're very conspicuous," she concurred, beaming again, until a long, drawn-out yawn interrupted her next quip.

"Do you want me to drive you home?" Fitz offered readily.

"I'll call a cab. It's late, and–"

"I don't mind. Besides, you live off-campus, don't you? It's gonna cost you a fortune."

"You do know a lot of things about me." She frowned, surveying him with inquisitive eyes.

Fitz shrugged awkwardly, feeling like he'd gotten caught. He really should be more careful, but she was easier to talk to that he'd ever anticipated, and somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten all the reasons that had stopped him from speaking to her, all those months ago.

"I pay attention," he said, as lightly as he could manage.

"To me?"

He couldn't read her expression. It was too guarded, too incertain. He debated laughing his slip away, but over the course of the evening, an absurd hope had grown inside him that maybe, just _maybe_ , Jemma Simmons might somehow be interested in him, too.

"Yeah," he said after a long pause, ignoring the knots tightening in his stomach.

"Really?" Jemma pressed.

"Really," he muttered, his heart in his throat.

"Okay, then." She shot him another undecipherable look before she got to her feet. For a moment, he thought she was upset, but she was merely waiting for him to lead her to his car.

***

Fitz parked right in front of Jemma's unit and took a sharp intake of breath.

The drive had been mostly silent, which now struck him as odd. All evening, they could hardly keep quiet, finishing each other's sentences like long-time friends or– something else.

"Jemma," he finally croaked, his eyes fixed ahead through the windshield as he hung to the threads of his courage. "I know you've just broken up with someone but– I thought that maybe, I mean– if you want–" He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "Forget it. It's probably a bad–"

"Yes," she cut him off, her voice clear and sure.

He turned to her so fast the bones of his neck cracked in protestation. "Yes?"

"Yes," she repeated, a small smile of encouragement tugging at the corner of her month. "Yes, I'll go out with you."

"Oh." He knew he was blushing like the socially inept klutz that he was –he could feel his cheeks and his ears burn like mad– but felt too stupidly happy to care. " _Really_?"

"Yes, Fitz, really," she said, rolling his eyes as her smile grew larger. "Tomorrow? Dinner?"

He nodded dumbly, only stopping when she pressed a kiss to his cheek before she jumped out of the car. Fitz watched her go, catching the bright smile she shot him over her shoulder before entering her building. He didn't turn the key in the ignition again until he saw a window light up on the second floor.

(Right there and then, Fitz decided he would get Milton the best belated birthday gift anyone had ever received.)

**Author's Note:**

> This story has a short sequel: [B is for Blue is for Bro-code](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7529041)
> 
> Tumblr > chinese-bakery


End file.
